
Every January 9, Manila feels a little off from its usual self. Roads known for endless traffic suddenly belong to crowds of people walking closely together, many of them barefoot, all heading towards Quiapo Church for the Feast of the Black Nazarene.
What happens during this day goes beyond a normal church celebration — but a massive show of faith, carried by tradition, personal stories, and the hardships of people who come back year after year.
The origins of Black Nazarene
The Feast of the Black Nazarene did not originate in the Philippines and only began when the image was brought to Manila in 1606 by Augustinian Recollect missionaries from Mexico. Carved from mesquite wood — a dark type of wood commonly used at the time for architecture, which explains the statue’s dark color. Although many later believed it had been burned during its journey.
When it first arrived in the country, the image was placed in the Church of San Juan Bautista in Bagumbayan, an area now known as Luneta. In 1608, it was moved to San Nicolas de Tolentino Church in Intramuros, staying there for many years until 1787.
On January 9, 1787, the image was again transferred to Quiapo Church, also called St. John the Baptist Church. That transfer later became known as the Traslacion. Today, it is the yearly procession where devotees walk with the Black Nazarene from Quirino Grandstand to Quiapo Church.
As time passed, the image became known not only for its journey but for everything it has endured. The Black Nazarene survived major fires that engulfed the Quiapo Church in 1791 and 1929 and even bombings in Manila during World War II in 1945.
Practices leading to Traslacion
Because of this, devotion to the Black Nazarene has shaped Filipino Catholicism into something highly physical and participatory. Faith here is not only believed — it is carried, walked, waited for.
This devotion comes from both history and personal needs. For many, faith in the Black Nazarene is something they grew up with. While for others, devotion starts during hard times.
As the Traslacion gets closer, church activities slowly begin. Barangay visits are held until January 6. This is followed by the send-off ceremony on January 7.
Novena masses follow on January 8 and 9, along with the blessing of replicas of Jesus Nazareno.
Faith through touch
By touching the image, devotees bring their prayers physically closer, making faith something tangible they can carry with them wherever they go.
According to Msgr. Jose Clemente Ignacio, the rector of the Minor Basilica of the Black Nazarene in 2015, touching the image expresses the devotees’ closeness and sincerity with their prayers and beliefs.
“The devotees flood by to touch the image and throw cloths to touch the image, before receiving the cloths back… our culture is a culture of touch and, significantly, in a way we want to touch heaven,” he said.
Even during the procession itself, when safety measures seal the image in glass, devotees continue to throw their handkerchiefs towards the Hijos, who wipe them against the exposed part of the cross. The need to touch the image remains out of longing.
Stories of Black Nazarene’s healing touch
For many, faith in the Black Nazarenes is inherited — passed down through generations who have prayed for the image. For others, devotion begins in moments of crisis, like illness, loss, poverty, and desperation. Later on, touching the image represents more than just closeness and sincerity but also desperation and the belief that it could heal.
In 2024, a devotee, Vener Rimas, shared his experience after he asked for the image to heal his grandfather who raised him since he was a kid.
“Noong ako humiling sa kaniya tungkol sa lolo ko, pinagbigyan ako noong araw na iyon. Ako ay company driver. Nadestino ako sa malayo. Nabalitaan ko, tinawagan ako. Ang lolo ko raw baka ‘di ko na abutin. Habang ako ay tumakbo pauwi, sabi ko, ‘Bigyan mo pa ng tatlong araw para magkausap kami… Nagulat ako. Pagdating ko. Hindi lang tatlong araw, tatlong taon ang binigay sa akin,” Rimas said in an interview.
Another devotee, Joviet Palumbarit, who suffered from polio when he was born, doesn’t let his disability stop him from participating in the Traslacion yearly since 1993.
“Kaya nga sa kalagayan ko, kaya minsan maraming nagtatanong sa akin dahil nga sa disabled nga po ako, tinatanong bakit daw kinakaya ko. Sabi ko sa isip ko, siyempre tiwala ako sa kanya na kakayanin ko ‘to,” he shared.
Devotion that endures anything
Despite challenges during the procession, such as extreme weather conditions and overcrowding, many devotees across the country still express their faith and attend the procession nonetheless.
In 2024, the procession returned after a three-year pause due to the pandemic, drawing over 6,532,501 devotees. While in 2025, a total of 8,124,050 devotees participated in the Traslacion, which ended after 20 hours and 45 minutes.
The scale of devotion reflects its pull. Over the years, attendance has ranged not lower than 1 million. These numbers persist over the years despite risks, heat, and exhaustion — suggesting that what draws devotees is not spectacle but something far more personal.
Traslacion is crowded because life is crowded. It is exhausting because survival often is. And yet people return every year, because in the Black Nazarene they see a God who does not stand apart from suffering, but moves through with them.
Every January 9, Manila does not just remember history but reenacts a belief that pain can be carried, faith can endure, and hope — no matter how heavy — can still move forward.